One
by ALilyPea
Summary: House is lonely. He knows the remedy but never cures it. Why is that? Notes: Currently no slash but you can damn well expect it from me. ON HOLD!
1. Prologue

Title: One

Author: Chloe Wilkinson

Chapter: Prologue of who knows how many.

Warnings: None to speak of at the moment.

Rating: PG

Author's Notes: This is my first foray into the House fandom although I've been reading it pretty much since the show began. I've written in so many other fandoms I figured why not try my hand at this one. Please be kind.

This was beta'd by my lovely friend synkkaenkeli.

Disclaimer: I don't own House MD nor have I ever claimed to. It is the property of David Shore and such.

Summary: House knows loneliness. He knows how to remedy it but never cures it. Why is that?

* * *

Gregory House knew loneliness; he knew it like he knew the scar on his leg. Intimately and in detail, in vivid technicolour detail. He battled it the only way he knew how and that was by keeping it close to him like the warmth of a childhood blanket. He pushed away Stacy, tested Wilson, and tested his fellows…his ducklings the nursing staff called them. He tested everything, tested Cuddy, and tested his patients and himself. It was something he couldn't stop, something he could control but at the same time slipped so easily through his fingers like time. Time was something he valued, he'd valued his time with Stacy, and he even valued the time he had with his fellows even though they didn't know it.

One truly was the loneliest number but at least the condition and the symptoms were easy to cure. A warm body on a cold night, a glass of Scotch and his piano. Six vicodin on a rainy day when his leg hurt the worst and then he could almost forget that he had only one friend. He could forget the look in Cameron's eyes, the admiration for who she'd heard he had once been, and the disdain of who he was now. Everyone wanted Greg, the snarky but genius Diagnostician who would actually let people in. No one knew what to do with House, the caustic and mean puzzler. Not even Cuddy but that wasn't surprising; she was too busy trying to prevent him from losing his license, from losing his mind and losing her own job. He didn't know when he'd changed, didn't even know why. He was alive, they had saved his life and he could walk, he just couldn't run.

House sat down at his piano ignoring the throbbing in his leg and the Vicodin in his pocket. He ran his fingers along the keys lightly, remembering better times at his piano. He used to play for Stacy regularly, and then he would get up off the bench and sweep her into their bedroom. He hadn't lived in an apartment then; they'd had a beautiful house, stairs leading to the second floor. He could barely walk up two steps now without nearly falling back down them because the stress on his muscles just a little bit too much. He pressed the keys down lightly, not knowing what he was going to play, just knowing that he needed to. His fingers moved easily, memory. He would never have his leg again but he would always have his piano and as long as he had his piano to him, he had everything.

He tried to ignore the knock on his door, tried to keep on playing until a familiar voice called out to him edged in panic. "House! Dr. House please open the door," The missing 'r' at the end of 'door' and the smooth timber said enough. It was his favourite wombat, his favourite Duckling. He stood up knowing that if he didn't answer the door he would probably end up calling Chase to annoy him regardless, needing his own curiosity satiated as to why the Australian would be pounding on his door at 11 o'clock on a Friday night when he could be out finding dominatrix's to enslave him.

House stood up slowly and hobbled toward the door gripping his cane tightly in his hand as he did so. The pain was worse when it was cold and it was frigid out. He opened the door and was unable to stop his eyes from widening in shock as he took stock of his fellow, standing there with what looked like a four year old boy bundled into his arms.

"Picking up children on the streets now Chase?" He asked arching an eyebrow. His tone was wry and his eyes were filled with disbelief, this was certainly a puzzle.

"You said we could come to you when we needed you House, well I'm here, and I need your damn help. I'm not here to be made fun of," Chase snapped his eyes flaring with anger. "Would you let me in? He's sick and I can't take him to the hospital."

House stepped aside, "If I recall that had to do with cases and patients, not personal problems with little urchins." He responded following Chase to the couch where the younger man set down the child and wrapped him in a blanket. "Why wouldn't you take him to the hospital? That's what hospitals are for Chase, sick people. Especially sick four year old boys whose lungs sound like they're crackling with pneumonia and not the fun running jumping and climbing trees type of pneumonia."

"Don't you think I know that House? But I can't take him there," Chase tugged off his coat and dropped it on the floor not seeming to give one damn about getting his bosses floor wet. He put down his medical bag looking hopelessly up at House, holding the hand of the young boy, and trying to warm it up between both of his own.

"Please House, you can get what he needs and have it brought here. They wouldn't question you, just help me." He pleaded with him trying to appeal to his boss's humanity that is if he had any. "I am asking for your help, I'll do anything."

House had seen that look before in the eyes of so many of his patients, in the eyes of the families of those patients when he couldn't come up with a proper diagnosis at first, or came up with one too little too late. It was the reason why he avoided talking to patients, the reason he avoided talking to their families. He didn't really care if they lied, he could see the lies, he'd always been able to see right through them. It was that look of desperation and seeing it on Chase who granted wasn't always the most, confident person was disconcerting because even when he'd dragged Chase down and torn him into pieces he hadn't looked at House like that.

"Who is he?" House asked him unmoving and studying him in an analytic manner, expressionless as he did so. "Why does it mean so much to you that I help him?" He questioned, looking at the bundle.

Chase pushed the blanket back and House could see the similarities and differences between the two. "Because he's my son," He whispered hoarsely, stroking his cheek. "And if you don't help him he'll get taken away. I don't have the papers for him. His mother just left him on my doorstep. I haven't seen him in six months." He explained. "If you don't help me he'll get put into foster care. I just need time House; I need to be able to get his papers, his birth certificate. But until then no one can know."

House was very rarely surprised but this was definitely one of those rare times. He had been silly enough to think Chase was an open book. Oh how wrong he was.


	2. Chapter 1

* * *

Title: One

Author: Chloe Wilkinson

Chapter: One of who knows

Warnings: Contains strong language

Rating: PG

Author's Notes: This took much longer than expected and I'm quite excited about this fic. I hope you all enjoyed it. It was beta'd by my lovely sister Amy.

Disclaimer: I don't own House MD nor do I claim to.

Summary: House gets an explanation, Wilson gets a phone call and the world tilts off its axis.

* * *

House stood there for a few moments, looking down at Chase then looking at the child. There was a strong resemblance there, the same hair, the same nose. Basically the same t-zone, he glanced at the boys chin quickly then his cheeks. There were dimples in his cheeks as his mouth worked and he swallowed, just like Chase's only more prominent. They would most likely go away when he got older and lost some of the baby fat. Still he couldn't believe it, either Chase was lying to him or Chase had lied to him before. It was an unsettling feeling because he was always able to detect the lie; he hadn't even caught a hint of this one. He'd actually figured that Chase had as little of a life as he did.

"You had a kid when you were twenty-two? That's young, even for someone as moronic as you," House remarked caustically, still not moving to help as he looked down at the boy who was clearly feverish and struggling to breathe properly. He would need medication fast.

"I was twenty, he's six." Chase responded, not even sure why he was telling House this, it was really none of his business. "Are you going to help me or not? Because I can always go to Dr. Wilson," He pulled out his stethoscope and checked his son's breathing, frowning. "He needs treatment now. Please. I know you have the power and you can make the phone calls without Cuddy even realizing what's going on."

House looked from Chase to the boy, frowning somewhat then nodded, practically knocking the Australian out of the way with his cane he sat down on the end of the couch and pulled the boy up. "Go into my bedroom and get some pillows, we're going to need to make him as comfortable as possible." He looked at his couch and frowned, seeming to study it for a moment. Wilson certainly never seemed to be that comfortable on it and he knew he should replace it but it was kind of fun watching his friend squirm.

"Oh hell," He passed the boy off to Chase, "Let's get him into my room." He stood up and gripped his cane tightly as he walked ahead of Chase to the bedroom, his leg throbbing even more intensely now along with his shoulder.

--

Chase picked up his son and followed House into the bedroom, looking around. It was far more comfortable then he'd expected it of being. It wasn't as if he thought House lived in a coffin or something but the older man was evil enough to. "Nice room," The words fell from his lips before he could stop them and his eyes shot up to meet House's, just waiting to be ridiculed for that comment in a moment like this.

"Yeah I'm sure decorating is really important to you right now," House said caustically, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking the boy from Chase, taking the blanket from around him and putting him beneath the sheets. "I don't have any children's clothes, he's going to need fresh pajamas," He told Chase, setting it aside.

"I know, I brought some, it's in the bag in my car. Will you just make the call House?" Chase asked, sounding almost waspish as he snapped at his boss. House had always expected that he would grow a backbone. He just didn't expect it to be right now but people were funny where their children were concerned. Not that he would know, he'd never wanted kids or planned for them for that matter.

"Go get the bag, I'll watch the mini-wombat and make the call," House waved him off, checking the sound of Chase's son's lungs. "What's his name?" He asked carefully brushing some hair away from the boy's eyes as the opened and he looked around sluggishly but didn't seem aware

"You never want to know your patients names," Chase retorted sounding almost bitter at how easily House managed to push people away and keep them away.

"I also don't tend to take in home patients," He responded easily, glaring at Chase. If he was going to ask questions, he wanted answers. It was bad enough he got lied to by patients daily he didn't need Chase to go through the same damn cycle after working for him for nearly a year; as it was the fact that he didn't know the younger man had a son was bothering him more than he would admit.

Chase sighed running a hand through his hair, "His name is Aden," He told House before heading out of the bedroom, glancing over his shoulder just once back at House with Aden. He really couldn't figure out why of all people he'd gone to House, but he would have time to think about that later. He really had no reason to, especially since he'd betrayed House. Could he trust the other man not to betray him?

--

House stood up, gripping his cane and hobbled to the bathroom turning on the sink to wet a cloth. He heard a noise and hurried back as much as he could, gripping the cane tighter when he saw that the boy…Aden was fussing trying to move around but was definitely lethargic. He moved to the bed and rested the wet cloth on the boy's forehead.

"Tell me something, can you breathe better sitting up or lying down?" House frowned when he didn't get an answer. "Hey kid, pay attention!" He snapped his fingers in front of Aden's face, 

surprised when the kid pushed his hand away and turned his face to the side refusing to listen to house.

Chase walked back in moments later heading straight for the bed when he saw that Aden had woken up, turning his son's head gently to the side he positioned the cloth properly.

"Is your son as much of a moron as you are? He certainly doesn't listen any better," House snapped feeling irritated at the boy's lack of response. "Figures your son would be like that, although you usually are pretty good at following orders if I'm authoritative enough. You like being dominated don't you?"

House couldn't deny he delighted sadistically in the way Chase's jaw tightened and his eyes seemed to burn with anger. It was good to know that even though he didn't feel sometimes because of the Vicodin that he could still provoke reactions in other people. It kept his life satisfying enough that he didn't feel like tossing back the whole damn bottle of pills.

"He can't hear you House, he's deaf okay?" Chase told him through gritted teeth. "Now did you make the damn phone call or are you just having fun toying with me because this is my son House and I'm not going to let him die in your bloody bedroom."

Staring at Chase for a moment House nodded slowly, "I'll make the call now," was all he said before slipping from the bedroom and into the living room. He picked up the phone calling in a favour to those he actually trusted to keep quiet about such things in the hospital. First he called Wilson to tell him he had a patient who wanted in home care.

"Since when do you take patients outside of work?" Wilson asked sounding amused, as though this must've been a joke of some sort.

House sighed softly, trying to think of a quick explanation for what he needed and why he was calling. "It's an emergency Wilson," His voice was more serious than it usually was indicating that he needed Wilson's help and he needed it now. He glanced down the hall into his bedroom and tried to ignore the twisting in his stomach when he saw Chase with the child.

"Why don't you make the call yourself?" Wilson questioned pointedly, not liking the tone in House's voice. It made him nervous. What was going on?

Practically growling in frustration House gnashed his teeth together somewhat and took a deep calming breath in, letting it out slowly. "Because people like you better Jimmy, for some reason my bright and shiny disposition doesn't make people trust me. Now get me what I need, or I'll be forced to do something drastic," He told Wilson.

Sighing Wilson realized this must be serious, "Fine I'll bring it by myself, I'll have to use the damn truck but I expect an explanation when I get there House otherwise…" He let the sentence hang because both of them knew there was no chance in him doing anything to hurt House and he was horrible at carrying out threats when it came to it.

House paused for a moment, breath baited and a heavy silence hanging in the air. "Thank you." He hung up the phone before Wilson could say anything else, or express his surprise because 

he didn't want to hear it. He was too busy puzzling out what was going on with Chase and mini-Chase, a son he hadn't known about. This certainly was intriguing he had to admit; it was what he had been looking for all along and he hadn't even known it. Life certainly was interesting wasn't it?

He felt a grin growing across his face as he slumped down into his chair and tapped his cane on the floor in a rhythmic manner the phone still clasped in his hand. Wilson would be here soon and then he would get to watch Chase try and explain; Chase would be indebted to both of them for saving his son.

"House…did you…are you smiling?" Chase sounded dumbfounded and looked so when House turned his head to look at him. It made him laugh out loud before he could stop himself, he felt euphoric and he couldn't even explain why. He didn't know why, there was a child gravely ill and deaf in his bed and a blonde Australian standing in front of him looking like Santa Clause had gotten him a whole bag of coal instead of presents.

"Yes I am," He answered softly standing up he dropped the phone onto the cushion of his chair. "Wilson will be here with the supplies soon, I suggest you come up with a better explanation than what you've got," He told him.

Chase looked even more puzzled, his eyebrows drawing down into a frown. "Why wouldn't I just tell him the truth? Aden's mother couldn't handle him anymore due to his special needs and left him with me."

House scoffed, "If you really want to go with such a boring explanation then fine but it's so clichéd I hear the same story at least twice a week on General Hospital, the whole poor me my child's mother didn't love him enough is really starting to run dry don't you think?" He questioned. "Why couldn't she have been a child prostitute or someone you picked up, didn't realize she was so young and next thing you knew you were stuck in a Mexican jail for possession of cocaine."

"What on earth do child prostitutes have to do with cocaine possession? Are you high?" Chase looked mildly horrified even though he really shouldn't have at this point because this was the way House worked; on a completely different level than anyone else in the world. "I'm not going to tell Wilson that."

House's face filled with glee and Chase actually stepped back, "Can I?"

Chase back-pedalled slightly and shook his head, "I'm going to see if I can get Aden into a new pair of pyjamas. You just wait out here for Wilson okay? And maybe a few less Vicodin at night time," He told him before heading back into the bedroom. When he reached the door he stopped and thought about House, what he'd said and how much calmer he was now. House knew what buttons to push that was for sure, but he felt much better now, less like he was going to fall apart. He smiled to himself and sat on the edge of the bed waiting for Wilson to come.

--

Thank you Julie I'm glad you like it and I hope to do more with it.

Green Penguin thank you for your kind comments and I hope to keep it up.

TombeDeLaLune I'm glad you liked the beginning of this fic and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well:)

Max, sorry the update wasn't too soon; hopefully the next will flow much better.

Firetop, slash is my middle name yo.

Iluvewansmile I'm glad you find it intriguing.

Fay, glad you like it:)

Thanks to everyone who added it to their alerts as well!


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